Night terrors
by Oneese
Summary: Far Cry 3 - Oneshots. They didn't know how they had stayed sane, but they did know they wouldn't be for much longer.
1. Jason - Night terrors

_Disclaimer: I don't own Far Cry._

_A/N: My first fanfiction ever ;D, so yupyup. Kinda an oneshot, bit short... Meh, a short oneshot ;]  
But just a heads up, guys, it's not beta'ed and English is not my first language (shouldn't be an excuse as why a story isn't good, so nop not an excuse) so sorry for any spelling or grammer mistakes. Critism is of course welcome, yet flames aren't. _  
_Also this goes with the ''good ending''/save your friends ending.  
I hope you enjoy. ~ Oneese _

* * *

Jason laid his head down on the pillow. Eyes fluttering close, sweat pooling on his forehead. Another night, another nightmare and no sleep. Jason was pale these days, dark bags always present under his eyes and a look there that'd scare all.

Liza was worried, always hovering close by, like she was afraid her boyfriend would fall to the ground any second now. He hadn't yet, but the possibility grew with each passing day. She had asked him several times what made him scream, cry and too scared to sleep at night. Jason never answered, but Liza was a smart girl and she could guess.

She had been the island too, just like any of their friends. They didn't all make it off and she knew that had scarred them all. Yet Liza should have been a fool to believe that she could compare her experience to that of Jason, her scars, both mental and physically, to those of Jason. She couldn't and she shouldn't.

Liza was a smart girl and she knew that her lover had seen so much blood, violence and dead people that she sometimes wondered how Jason had stayed sane. How he hadn't lost his mind yet, she felt horrible if she thought about that, but the question remained.

Jason asked himself the very same thing, almost every night. How had his sanity survived the rollercoaster that his stay on Rook Island was?

He had seen his older brother bleed out on the ground, he tried to save him, but couldn't. The blood had poured out too quickly and Jason couldn't keep it in Grant's veins. The liquid had soaked his hands and he couldn't even say goodbye, before he had to run away from the very same man that killed Grant.

He had shot men in the head and several other body parts and it made him sick. He wasn't stratified when he heard a body hit the ground. He wasn't pleased when he saw the blood come out of a wound he made. He didn't like it when the crack of bones filled the air. Yet he knew that he needed to survive, save and then survive a little longer.

He hadn't liked it either when he put a bullet through Vaas' head, a killing blow it was and the man bled out on the floor. While he had felt satisfaction, pride and glee in that moment, now he looks back on it all he feels is disgust and maybe even a little fear of what he was in that moment. It was in that moment that he viewed himself as twisted, as a killer. He had liked to see the other die and he swore it was the last time. It wasn't.

The next time came quicker than Jason had expected and he had to thank Sam for that, but also he wasn't alive anymore. Hoyt was a twisted man, who didn't deserve to live and he knew that, but he couldn't find any comfort in that. How it had happened was so vague to Jason that he always has to look down to his hand to remind himself that it was real, that it hadn't been another nightmare. That Hoyt killed Sam in front of him and that he plunged a knife in Hoyt's stomach. He had twisted and turned it for a bit and then he went for his brother. Riley needed him and Jason didn't think about Hoyt a lot, just reminding himself that nobody would miss the slave shipper.

And when he was ready to leave the island with Riley, Liza and everyone else, Dennis came. Not happy or glad that he could go home, but angry and outraged and maybe a little jealous. Jason had refused to join Citra and his friend, his only friend on the island, didn't take kindly to that. The betrayal was more painful than he thought it would be. Dennis had looked at him with crazy eyes full of hatred and unsheathed his machete. He had eyes of a killer when he came towards the outsiders with a crazed smile.

Then suddenly Citra, Citra who Jason had rejected, jumped in front of him like some kind of hero. And in that moment she was one. His friend was so surprised, Citra was dying and Jason just stood there after the light faded from her eyes. Dennis bawled his eyes out and Liza was urging him to move. Riley called his name and Oliver shook his shoulder. It was Keith who lifted him, like some live-sized doll. It was that moment, Jason decided, that it all became too much.

How had he survived it? Why wasn't he six feet under yet? Why did he have to experience killing every single one of them again and again, was that fair? Jason didn't know how it was possible he hadn't gone insane yet. But he knew that if the night terrors kept coming, even that last bit of sanity he had left would give away to craziness.


	2. Grant - Sibling problems

_Hello there, dears.  
I decided to write this oneshot with Grant in the spotlight. Maybe a bit OOC I don't really know, because we don't get to see there childhood or a lot of Grant for the matter. So yes, I got this idea and this was born, yay? _  
_Just a little thing: I know that their dad died when Jason was in college and all but well it just fitted the story better if he died when they were all little, don't eat me. Hope it's enjoyable, keep up the good work ~_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Far Cry 3_

* * *

Grant had grown up quick, quicker than his mother would have liked sometimes.

His dad and her faithful husband died when he was at the young age of six. Her second son, Jason was just four, but already looking up to his big brother and the baby of the family, Riley, was almost one. The damage to his brain was unfortunately fatal and she was left alone to be a parent to three little boys. It was hard.

So when his mom and don't get this wrong, his mother wasn't a bad one. She didn't hit them or told them they were little pieces of shit worth nothing, she tried to keep smiling and raise them the best she could manage alone. Grant knew it was hard for her and that's why he decided to help her. Be a big brother and maybe just a little bit like a father to his brothers.

When the decision was made by himself he tried to act and speak like he saw adults do all the time. It was funny to watch and his mom saw it as a nothing more than a phase. Always muttering that she didn't want her babies to grow up too fast. Yet, Grant knew she wanted them to be older and more independent. Grant wanted to give her a bit of rest and that's what he tried to do.

Grant started his mission with trying to keep Riley quiet during the night. Even when the little boy was almost one, he still screamed his longs out for even the smallest thing. When he heard the, at first, soft cries of his youngest brother, Grant'd climb out of bed and slowly make his way down to the nursery, his father had build. He'd rock the upset infant and mutter soothing nothingness into his ears. Then he'd stand from the rocking chair, the same chair his mom slept many nights, and put Riley back into the crib.

His routine stayed like that for a long while, 'till Riley stopped crying every night, demanding a change or a new bottle. He knew it'd worked too, his mom looked a little less pale and the bags under her eyes were slowly going away. She smiled more too and Grant had missed her smile real bad.

It became natural to him to look out for his siblings. More than a normal brother would. He held Jason after he dreamed bad and made Riley his bottle every morning. He walked with Jason to school, even went as far as holding his sibling's hand when he didn't want to go and he sung to his infant brother when he had trouble sleeping. His mom began to notice too.

She had taking him apart after dinner, setting Riley down to play and clicked on the TV for Jason. She spoke to him in her soft voice and took his face into her hands. Telling him he didn't need to take care of his siblings as much as he did, that it was a mother's responsibility and not that of a child. His mom had taken her time, explained and used a lot of simple words so her oldest could keep up with her. He did and promised to play with friends more. It was a false promise.

When he was sixteen Jason came to his room one afternoon. Looking all shy and childish. He hadn't yet hit his grow spurt and was still this small, chubby kid Grant had watched over for so long. The question his brother came with was less expected. The young boy was in love and told her name was Dory. Dory with the long, brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. How did he woo her? Grant had laughed and talked to Jason for a long, long time. Well, maybe it wasn't so long, but it sure was long enough for Riley to get impatient and barge into his older brother's room and demanded that Jason returned to their room, to play games with him.  
His tactics didn't work and his younger sibling didn't speak to him for at least three weeks.

The day he brought home his serious girlfriend, it was Riley and not Jason or his mom, who was there to greet them. The fifteen year old wore his formal clothing, the one they had on when they went to church and had acted like it was totally normal. Riley had actually attempted to make dinner, it didn't look like dinner. It made them laugh and his brother huff in annoyance. His girl had ordered pizza, while Riley kept asking her question. Narrowing his eyes at her and sometime shooting his sibling a glance. At the end of the evening, when the last few slices of pizza had disappeared, Riley had a smile on his face and he whispered: 'Welcome, Daisy.'

It was actually his mom's idea to go on vacation. 'It'll be good for you, boys.' She had said, good for them… Sure. They all knew she just wanted to have some alone time with that new boyfriend of hers. But they went. Partying, drinking, fucking it was all there on that island, at least that's what Doug said. 'You can do anything!' He had exclaimed and they went with it. He was the one to get the final say and he agreed.

Now Grant Brody is lying on the ground, pain flaring through his whole body. His neck hurts the most of all. His vision is slowly bleeding to black and he feels with his finger tips a goody substance on the ground next to him. He sees, -feels-, Jason hanging over him, his hands holding his neck and pushing down. It makes it all just hurt more and he wants his brother to stop. He tries to tell him just that, but his mouth is full of something and it doesn't taste good. When his vision falls away, he can still feel Jason's hands and why doesn't he just stop? Then a thought and Grant wants to open his eyes again. Where's Riley?


	3. Buck - Soul judgement

_So hi, dudes. I made an one shot about Buck, that's right that sadistic mothertrucker that we all love and hate at the same time. This was weirdly fun to do... Writing about Buck that's it, not the non-con part. Also I'm all sure you guys know Bambi is Buck's full name, but I thought I'd note it anyway._

_But just a heads up: I wrote an one shot that leads up to non-con, it isn't graphic or anything, just really suggestive and if you find that a subject that is upsetting to you, I'd say you shouldn't read it. It isn't graphic or really written here at all, but you know it's gonna happen. So yes. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Far Cry 3._

* * *

Bambi looked down at the girl. Her eyes full of tears and silent screams falling off her lips. She seemed to be frozen in fear, paralyzed at what she found in his basement. He stepped a little closer and he saw her slowly coming to.

'Oh my god…' She stared at the boy behind him on the bed. Clasping her hand before her mouth, she tried to slowly back away towards the door that led to freedom. Bambi didn't let her get far, he liked his games, but only when he was in control after all. He flashed her a cheeky grin.  
'You can call me Buck.' He whispered into her ear, she shivered and not in a good way.

She tried to push the man off her, but Buck was too strong or maybe she was just too weak. Her hair was grasped in his hands and pulled back. He looked straight in her eyes and it send fear through her whole body. Her resistant crumbled under that stare and she let him lift her up.

'Shame that you found out like this, babe.' He drawled when he put her down next to the boy. A broken boy, she realized and she didn't even want to think about the horrors he was put through. She bitted her lip and decided to say nothing, play it as safe as she could.  
'Wished we could make sweat love… with you willingly.' He took her wrists in one of his hands, the other trailing over her breasts. 'But, I guess this isn't bad either! I like my prey to struggle a bit.'

He smirked and pointed a finger at the boy. 'Keith there,' The boy groaned and curled in on himself. 'Hasn't any fight left, have you, mate?' It didn't seem like a real question to her, but she remained silent. Her eyes scanned the small basement, looking for a way out or call for help, not like anyone would come near Buck's property.

'Aah, but back to you.' Buck leaned into her personal space and pecked her cheek. 'Ready to struggle a bit?' He laughed and pinched her arm. 'I'm sure you do, you're a rebel aren't you? Never listening to your father?' He raised his eyebrow and waited for an answer. She didn't posses the courage to actually answer the man, the rapist of the boy and she was sure, soon to be hers.

'Answer me, sweetheart.' He tapped her cheek. Once, twice. She blinked. Once, twice. The slap came unexpected and it was foolish of her that he wouldn't slap her for not obeying. Her voice croaked and cracked. 'Yes.' She whispered softly, it seemed like the right answer for him. He chuckled and released her wrists.

'Give me your best shot then, mate!' He pointed at his cheek. 'Right there, one shot.' He observed her reaction and he saw horror and maybe a little anger in her eyes, fat tears rolling down her face. It didn't look like she was going to hit him anytime soon. He sighed and went to his knees. 'C'mon, mate. Hit me.' She did, but it wasn't a good one. Hardly hurt him after taking bullet to bullet. When she went to dart past him, he wrapped his hand around her ankle, making her sprawl to the ground. She hit the concrete floor with a thud.

Buck raised to his feet, gave Keith a look and then leaned down. Looming over the girl he let out a maniac laugh. With his head thrown back he didn't see her slowly getting up, trying to steady her breath. She got on her knees and Buck didn't seem to notice her movement. She lunged and growled, punching her captor in the legs. But he didn't seem to even feel anything.

He grasped her hair and pulled, hard. She cried out and tried to slap his hands away, she didn't succeed. 'A bullet hurts a lot more, you want that?!' Buck threatened, breathing into her ear. She shivered and shook her head. 'I didn't hear you!' He moved his hand back and forth. 'No!' She screeched, hands covering her eyes. Buck let out another laugh. 'Good, good.' Taking her over her shoulder, he threw her on the bed next to that one Keith was laying on.

'Well,' He made gestures with his hands. 'Undress yourself, lady.' She blushed and tried to avoid his stare. She gripped her shirt and held it tight to her upper body. She heard the man sigh, stand up and shuffle around a bit. 'Always the hard way.' He clicked something off. 'Keith, you know, did that in the beginning too.' She looked up and her eyes widened in fear. 'He doesn't anymore.' The loop of his pistol was aimed at her head and she knew she had lost the fight.

'That's a good girl.' Buck cooed when his victim looked down in submissiveness. Her eyes were closed, but her grip on her clothing loosened up. She turned her body away from his greedy eyes and took off her top. Leaving her sitting in her bra and skirt. Suddenly she felt a warm breath on her neck and then a lick. 'Let me help you with that.' He placed his hands on her side and she tried not to cry.

Keith gave the house, a shack really, a last look. He was never a really religious man, but he hoped with all his heart that heaven and hell existed.


	4. Citra - Angry gods

So, I finally got off my ass and finished this story I started mid April, I know, I know. But I was busy with life, school and other stories, but finally it is here! I hope you guys enjoy and thank you for reading.

Just a heads up: This does include incest (Citra/Vaas), this has been stated canon pre-game. Don't read if this offends you in any way, thank you.

_Disclaimer: I don't own FarCry._

* * *

Citra's face was unreadable, a blank look plastered there. Her eyes glistered a little in the soft light of the sun and he bottom lip trembled. Her beautiful hair was a mess and looked almost dead. She lowered her head and let out a sigh. She ran her hand through her hair and shook her head with her eyes closed.

Citra stood and towered over the lake. She didn't look her reflection in the eyes, rather stared at the one of her brother. Vaas had his hands in the cool, clean water, washing and scrubbing at his skin. Murmuring a old lullaby, he gave her a glance. He didn't say anything, he didn't have to. His eyes said it all and his sister nodded. No regrets. Not now, not ever.

Vaas cleared his throat and mentioned to his side, patting the dirt. Before Citra made her way over to her sibling, she observed him. His eyes were crazed and his pupils dilated. His hair was dirty and locks fell into his eyes. A red substance stained his wife beater and earlier his hands and cheeks. She was glad he had the decently to wash the blood of, she didn't know if she could stand to look at it. To look at the blood that belonged in the veins of her mother, her father.

They were supposed to do anything for her, she was their little princess, but lately she'd more fights with her mom and she'd gotten more hits from her dad. She wasn't in control and that wasn't something Citra enjoyed. So of course she needed to find the control again, she needed to and how wasn't such a hard question. It was actually Vaas who came up with it, but Citra was the one who said they should really do it. Thinking about it made her feel icky and somewhat angry. She was supposed to end them, but yet it was her brother who had taken the lead. Vaas had slashed and cut at their throats, pure red blood sloshing out of fatal wounds. A beautiful sight, indeed, but she hadn't created it so it took away from the amazing experience. The feeling of breaking free of invisible chains, however, felt greet. It made her feel alive, eyes flaring up and her voice unwavering, strong.

The air was cold today, something that wasn't a frequent thing on their island. Their island. It felt so unreal, her dad wasn't the head anymore and her mom couldn't act like some sort of queen anymore. It was now Vaas who held the throne, the power and she knew he'd rule with an iron fist. Although it was her older sibling that'd have the power and the kingdom in enactment, it was she. Citra, who would have the real power. The woman behind the man. Never really seen, but with much more power than people could imagine a shadow could posses. Rook island was theirs now. Only theirs. Her to control and hers to play with, it felt fantastic.

Vaas poked her in her side, leaning down and his lips brushed hers. Citra didn't blush, she wasn't that kind of girl, but instead leaned backwards and tugging her brother's shirt. With a strong pull Vaas lost his balance and came down to rest on his sister's chest. They both moved with every breath she took, in, out, in, out. It was a steady, almost soothing rhythm.

He leaned down again, a kiss in his mind, but a small hand on his neck stopped him. He shot Citra a look and his eyes flickered from her hand to her face and back. Citra giggled, something she rarely did, and then rolled her eyes, something she did a lot.

''What are we going to do now, Vaas?'' She asked in a hushed whisper, a snake hissing to the side making her voice almost inaudible. Vaas strained to hear his sister, but he did. He grinned, a loopy grin, one side of his mouth up high and the other down. He began to kiss Citra's neck, sucking blood towards the surface of her skin. Another roll of her eyes.

''We can do everything, everything. Everything, I promise you.''

Vaas didn't kept his promise, but neither did he keep on loving Citra, something she'd thought was forever. Yet it wasn't, yet she sat alone on the throne. A throne that had belonged to her father and to her brother, both who were dead in her eyes. She hated that her brother wasn't with her anymore, being lured away with sex, money, drugs, everything the man Hoyt had to offer seemed better in his eyes than what Citra had. She had thought she lost her true love and god they must have fucking screwed up in a previous life if they were made siblings. But then the boy came to her island, the boy named Jason Brody and she wasn't so sure if her first love was her true one anymore.


End file.
